


Broken, My Fairy Circle Ring

by ahopper84, KingOfWanderers



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drunkenness, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-04-06 07:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19058017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahopper84/pseuds/ahopper84, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfWanderers/pseuds/KingOfWanderers
Summary: Everyone knows, the first thing to remember when dealing with the Fae is this - never give them your name.





	1. Chapter 1

Roger's wailing voice echoed in the silence of the countryside, startling a few night birds to flight. He laughed as his eyes strained to follow them against the inky sky, then howled up at the moon some horribly garbled lyrics to a song he’d heard in the pub. He couldn’t quite remember all of it, but what he could recall he sung loudly and on repeat.

His stride wandered from one side of the path to the other, his feet crossing over each other and tripping him up every other step. There was little light to guide his gait, the moon hiding intermittently behind patches of clouds, so he walked on, not quite sure of where he was or where he was going. His tall-heeled shoes and his drunken pace didn’t quite agree with each other so he - with as much grace as a pebble being dropped into a puddle - dropped himself on the ground.

He squinted ahead, straining to see the path in the dark. Why had he chosen the ‘scenic route’? With no streetlights to guide him, he was certain the path would lead him further into nowhere. He sighed and looked around for something that could possibly help him. Other than continuing down the seemingly endless road or going back the way he came, there was only one more option.

Beside where he had sat himself down was a part of the path that snaked off between the trees. He couldn’t quite see where it led, but it had to take him somewhere that was more somewhere than nowhere. He heaved himself back to his feet, brushing off his arse of any debris that may have stuck there; he may have been completely alone, but that didn’t mean he’d let himself look like a tramp.

The path was a little steep to say the least, so after a bit of a squeal and a dust cloud from sliding down the small hill, he regained his composure and carried along his way. Luckily it flattened out after this little escapade and he could safely say he didn’t squeal again.

The woods weren’t exactly inviting, but neither was a seemingly never-ending road to nowhere, so woods it was. As he passed the threshold into the dense crowd of trees he felt a strange pressure wash over him, making his chest tighten and his ears want to pop. The sudden change in atmosphere unsteadied him, causing him to lean on a tree for stability.

He practically jumped out of his skin when the tree moved. He knew he was drunk but he didn’t have that much did he? The tree-thing turned to face Roger, who’d gone white as a sheet and looked like he was ready to absolutely piss himself.

Of course, he ran. He ran until his legs burned and his lungs gasped for air. Doubled over in the middle of a moonlit clearing he breathed heavily staring wide-eyed at the grass beneath him. The wind whistled around him, and he swore he heard voices whispering in a strange language that felt foreign, but familiar. He glanced around him looking for anything that might not be quite what it seemed.

Coming to the conclusion he was safe from whatever that tree was - who am I kidding, it was just a tree and I’m positively blitzed - for the second time that night he sat in the middle of nowhere.

Upon sitting he noticed just how tired he was. His shoulders slumped and his eyes fluttered as the exhaustion took over him. He laid back on the lush grass that felt so comfortable and welcoming to his inebriated mind. As he stared at the night sky above him, the moon reappearing and gently illuminating his face, the last thought he had before drifting off was that bloody tree’ll eat me if it finds me here.

\--------

Brian was staring at the stars again. It was his favorite thing to do, whenever his friends were off doing… whatever it was they did. He knew John would be with Veronica, and Freddie was probably with whatever pretty thing he was enchanted with at the moment. He'd had so many, it was hard for Brian to keep track. 

Suddenly, something felt… off. Brian sat up and looked around; he couldn't see anything nearby, but there was definitely a… presence in the area. A nearby Treant seemed to have noticed whatever it was too, leaving a large spot where he stood when he left to find the disturbance. Brian dropped down from the tree branch he'd been perched on and landed on the Treant's shoulder. 

After a bit of travel Brian spotted something, a splash of gold on the forest floor, catching the moonlight. The strands of gold splayed out on the grass gave the image of a halo around the sleeping form’s head. Brian was carefully let down by the Treant who then took his leave, lumbering back from whence he came.

Brian edged closer to the creature, crouching by its head. He'd never actually seen something like this before, though it looked similar to what he knew to be a human. Though he wasn't completely sure as the only human he’d ever met was John’s mate Veronica, and she looked nothing like the thing before him.

As he peered over at its face he gently brushed a flaxen lock from its mouth. It looked peaceful, lips parted, a steady flow of breath leaving it; the heavy scent of ale filled Brian’s nostrils, making him scrunch his nose in disgust. Brian sat forward staring intently at the beauty before him, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile as the creature’s eyes fluttered open.

For a wondrous second the two locked eyes, a brilliant blue shimmering in the moonlight had Brian enamoured. That was until a small but firm hand connected with his cheek with a resounding slap. Brian reeled back, his fae blood boiling with instinctive rage for a moment before he regained control. His hand laid upon the place a red handprint was starting to form, a hurt look painted on his face.

"Gerroff," the creature slurred and struggled to sit up. After a few failed attempts, he - the voice helpfully hinting that the creature was a he, not an it - managed to drag himself into an upright position. "Wha… wh'rm I? Who's you?"

Brian blinked at the stranger. He peered curiously at his clothing, especially the coat of tawny fur. He couldn't place what animal it had come from and reached out to touch it, but the stranger dodged him, falling back to the ground. 

Brian stared in confusion as the blonde started giggling. Perhaps he's mad, he thought, watching with cautious interest. I've heard that can happen to humans who have the misfortune to find their way here. 

"How did you get here?" Brian asked, speaking slowly. He took a crouched step forward but stopped when he felt something beneath his foot; lifting the object, it seemed to be a pair of spectacles, but the lenses were a cloudy amber color.

"Oi!" The human lurched forward, his arm swinging wildly as he reached for the glasses. "Gimme those!"

Brian held the glasses away, smirking. If there was one thing he'd been taught about humans, it was that if you had something they wanted, you held great power over them.

"And what will you give me in return?" he asked, leaning back against a tree trunk with his knees bent.

"S'mine, giv'm ‘ere!" He made another grab, but Brian sprung to his feet, landing nimbly on the boy's other side. The boy stared in awe, looking between where Brian previously stood and where he was now beside him.

“But I found them, which makes them mine,” Brian replied mischievously, once again holding them away as the blond made another swipe for them.

“I bought ‘em s’that makes ‘em mine!”

"Can you prove they belong to you? You might've stolen them." Brian circled him slowly, twirling the glasses between his fingers. 

“I ‘ave the r’ceipt!” he said, fumbling for his wallet. 

Brian hopped up onto a low branch. "What are they worth to you? Perhaps we could negotiate a barter…"

“Name y’r price,” 

“Pardon?” Brian’s eyes lit up, a wide grin on his lips. The fool had just handed Brian full control of the deal. He dropped back down, standing over the human. "Do they hold such value to you, to offer up so much with nary a thought?"

"Wha… what y’ on about?" He said, squinting at Brian, head tilted.

"But what could you offer me, I wonder? Material goods? Perhaps… a favour of a different sort?" Brian was at a bit of a loss. He knew what was expected of him, and he had an idea what his friends would do, were they in his place. But this was his first opportunity and a golden one at that. 

"Oi," the blonde squealed again, his delicate brow furrowing. "M'not that drunk." 

"And yet you offer yourself on a silver platter… You've no idea the predicament you've stumbled into, have you?" Brian felt a twinge of guilt; this poor soul really had no clue what peril he was in. And yet, Brian's nature kept his remorse to a minimum. Inebriated as he was, the boy had technically entered Fae lands of his own volition, and to the Fae, technicalities are everything.

"I dunno bout this pla'er nons'nce, jus' hand o'er the damn glasses."

"But I've yet to name my price, as you so helpfully requested." This was fun; Brian was enjoying how easily riled this human was. He wondered if they were all so easy to play with.

"Sod it," the boy mumbled and started to get to his feet. But he tripped over himself, sending him flying forward. Brian, in his curiosity and surprise, failed to move in time, and so found himself pinned against a tree. Blue eyes stared wildly into his and a warm, heaving chest pressed against him. 

In an instant he was ten feet off the ground, perched on a branch and staring down at the confused human.

"Bloody 'ell. H-how'd y'do that?" The blonde called up, but Brian said nothing. After a moment the boy sighed and reached into the pocket of his coat. "I.. I got… look 'ere, I got…" he turned and leaned back against the tree, a wallet held loosely in his hand. Too loosely, for as he pulled out a handful of notes it tumbled to the ground, the rest of its contents spilling out.

"Oh look, more treasure," Brian teased as he dropped down, picking up a small card. On it was a picture of the human, with various details. Brian's eyes scanned each line quickly, age, height, name-

"Gimme that!" The blonde snatched the card from Brian's fingers. "Keep the bloody things," he grumbled, shoving the wallet's contents back into their leather confines and turning away.

"It doesn't work that way," Brian said, his voice carrying a patronizing tone. "A trade demands balance. Your coat, perhaps? How does its value compare?"

"Give you my fur? Not bloody likely! D'y'ave any idea how much I paid fer this?"

"I asked of its value, not its cost. Two vastly different standards of measurement, I can assure you."

"Look, mate, I can buy new glasses easy enough, but this?" He said, gesturing to the coat. "I worked my bloody arse off for it, and I'm not jus' gonna…"

"Something else, then," Brian mused, circling the boy. "Something… special, but ultimately inconsequential. But what might you have, what trinket or trifle… Perhaps it isn't a thing after all, something to be done rather than given."

"Somethin’ to be done..? You want me to..” he gulped and glanced down for a moment; when he looked up, his eyes held a fiery spark that both startled and intrigued Brian. "Look here. I dunno wha' kind of bloke you think I am, but Roger Meddows Taylor doesn't get on his knees for just any rando that comes on to him, 'specially not in the bloody woods, in the middle of the fuckin' night!" With every word, the human took another step closer, his finger poking the fae in the chest, backing him up so roughly that were Brian less nimble he'd be flat on his back.

Brian's eyes widened; he certainly hadn't been thinking of that. But then another realization hit him - he'd just given him his name. His full name. Brian could feel a shift in the air between them; he suddenly felt as if he wasn't alone in his own head, a second perception crowding his mind. Two trains of thought, two combatting emotions. And a sense of power, unnerving but intoxicating. The fool.

"Oh no," Brian said, standing up straighter, the height difference between them becoming more pronounced. "That would hardly be an even trade. But maybe…" He gave the boy - Roger - an appraising stare. He was quite lovely, though Brian had nothing to compare him to other than his own kind. His features were delicate and soft, his unnaturally large eyes reflecting the moonlight. Yes, he was remarkable, and Brian was far from immune.

"Perhaps," Brian said quietly, reaching up to brush the backs of his fingers against the boy's cheek. "A kiss?"

"Is that all?" The human said, though his voice belied his unease.

"Hm… yes, I think that will satisfy. These glasses, for a kiss."

"What kind of a kiss?" The boy asked, his lips curling into a smirk. "Not t'brag, but I know a thing'r two 'bout kissing." He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels.

Brian considered the question, a hundred possible interpretations flitting about his mind.

"Think about exactly how much you want these back." He held the glasses between them for a moment. "That's what kind of kiss. As I said, the barter requires balance."

Roger stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed in thought. Brian held his breath, his heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. He closed his eyes when Roger leaned closer but opened them again when he felt the faintest peck on his cheek.

"Liar," Brian warned, his voice sickly sweet. "I know you want them more than that. Try again, or risk an end to my patience."

"Got a funny way of gettin' yer kicks, mate," the human grumbled. Finally, he grabbed Brian’s shoulder and pulled him closer, pressing their lips together.

\-----------

Roger Taylor had kissed plenty of people in his time. Boys, girls, older, younger; he had standards, sure, but he liked to think of himself as having an open mind. Some were better than others, some worse, but he'd never experienced a kiss that was particularly life-altering. 

It wasn’t that this was a stranger; he'd shared kisses and more with people whose names he'd never learn. Granted, there was something… mysterious about this one. Something Roger couldn't put his finger on, though that might've been due to his… impaired perception. 

But there was something about this kiss that set it apart. The bloke was fair, if maybe a bit inexperienced, but the longer it lasted, the better Roger felt. Fulfilled, in some strange way no kiss had ever affected him. He found himself leaning in, hands itching to reach up into the man's dark curls. 

He pulled away before he could do anything stupid. His breath came in short bursts, as did the other bloke's, who’s cheeks looked a bit flushed. Roger's face felt warm too, but he chalked that up to the pint or seven of lager he'd drank. He wasn't some horny teen, getting worked up over a quick snog.

Whispers murmured around them in that same strange language from before, and Roger looked around for the source, but he couldn't see anyone. Maybe it was all in his head, like the tree that had absolutely been just a tree. But the tall man before him seemed to notice too and took a step back.

"That will suffice," he said and held the pilfered glasses between them. Roger eyed him for a second, not convinced he wouldn't just pull them back again. But the man held stock-still as Roger plucked the shades from his slender fingers.

"You should leave," the man said, turning away. "While it's still safe to do so."

"The f'ck's that s'posed to mean?" Roger scoffed. "I don't even know where the bloody hell I am!" He looked around; in his drunken fearful flight, he'd gotten so turned around that he had no idea how far away home was, or in what direction.

"Close your eyes," the stranger said, turning around. "And start walking. Your feet will find their way." His lips curled into a hint of a smirk like he was laughing at a joke Roger wasn't privy to. 

"You're mad," Roger said, finding himself smiling. "Can I get your name? In case I get in the mood for another midnight snog in the woods."

The man looked surprised, which seemed a bit odd to Roger, all things considered. But then again, odd seemed to be the running theme of this whole encounter. 

"You may call me Brian if you like. Now go."

Roger opened his mouth to say something, but a yawn replaced any words he had. His eyelids suddenly felt impossibly heavy, and he just couldn't find the strength to hold them open. He felt like he was sleepwalking, a strange tingly sensation running through his veins. 

The last thing he remembered before darkness overtook him was his name - first, middle, and last - being whispered almost reverently.


	2. Chapter 2

When Roger finally came to, he didn't know if it'd been five minutes or five days. He lay staring up at the sky - no, the ceiling, that ruddy popcorn ceiling. He was in bed, he realized thanks to its creaking with every slight twitch, back in his family's summer cottage. His head was pounding, his stomach tying itself in knots, and his memory was fuzzy at best. Last night...

He bolted upright but instantly regretted it. Waves of nausea washed over him. He breathed through his nose and willed them to pass, and after a few tense moments, he no longer felt the urge to make a mad dash for the loo.

How had he made it home after all? His memory slowly returned; the dark path, the woods… the tree that had tried to eat him… passing out in the clearing… a man... Brian. His name had been Brian.

Roger didn't know what to think. The whole affair felt like a dream, the kind that leaves you feeling some kind of way even after waking. Besides the raging hangover, there was some other difference Roger could just barely feel.

"Roger, love, come down for breakfast!"

Roger groaned at his mama's voice but dragged himself up. He knew that whatever pain he was in now wouldn't compare to the lecture he'd get if he stayed in bed much longer. 

"Coming, mama!" He pulled on his jeans and dragged a brush through his tangled hair, trying in vain to look at least a little less ragged before going downstairs. The smell of fried eggs and sausages made his queasiness return, but he did his best to swallow back the bile.

"Mornin' Rog," his granddad said from behind his paper. "Didn't hear you come in last night."

"Got a bit turned around coming back from the pub," Roger replied, wincing at how gravely his voice sounded. "Took what I thought was a shortcut," he added with a huff of laughter. 

"Oh I'd be careful with that," his mama said as she set some tea in front of him. "The woods can be dangerous at night. Men’ve been lost there, never to be seen again.”

“It’s the blasted faeries you’ve got to watch out for,” his da said, folding his paper. “They’ll twist yer words til you’ve handed them the keys to the castle, and make ye thank them for the privilege.”

“My mum knew a girl who was taken,” Roger’s grandma spoke up. “Beautiful girl, kind and sweet; she was no match for their wiles, poor thing. Mum used to swear she could hear her sometimes, in the night, laughing as if she hadn’t a care in the world.”

“Right,” Roger sighed, resting his head on the table. “If I spot any tiny naked birds with wings, I’ll steer clear.”

His granddad went on, rambling about the same old superstitions Roger had been fed since he was little, but he tuned him out. His mind was still on the man he’d met the night before. He wasn’t dumb enough to bring that up in conversation, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t replaying the scene in his head, what little of it he understood at least. There was something about it, some lingering feeling, like something he was missing. Something important. 

“Da, mama, I’m a bit off today, think I’ll just go back to bed if that’s alright.”

“Of course dearie,” hes grandma said, patting his shoulder. “You do look a bit peaky. Go lie down, and I’ll bring you some soup round lunchtime.”

He kissed her on the cheek and rounded the table to do the same to his grandfather, then climbed back upstairs and fell into his bed. He felt… wrong somehow, but it was just a bad hangover, nothing more. He’d feel better after sleeping it off, he was sure of it.

\-----

"John, are you in?" Brian called as he knocked on his friend's door. It was Veronica who answered, however, covering a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Brian, good morning. Up early, aren't you?"

"Haven't been to bed actually. Is John still sleeping, then? I can come back round later."

"I'm awake," John said from behind Veronica. "What's the fuss?" He and Veronica stepped aside and let Brian enter; he and John sat in the kitchen, while Veronica started water for tea.

"I met a human last night," Brian told his friend. John’s eyebrows lifted, and Veronica looked over in curiosity.

"Did you, now?" John replied, shuffling forward in his seat. "Do tell."

Brian took a deep breath, then recounted the tale. John simply nodded as he listened, his lips pursed. 

"Your first ganainmer," he said with a smile once Brian had finished. "Congratulations."

"He sounds interesting," Veronica said, setting down the boys' tea. "I still remember the night John and I met. It was… well, magical," she said with a wistful smile.

"That it was," John said with a wink at his wife. 

"Afraid I'm a bit lost about the whole thing. It’s strange… my mind feels split, like seeing double, but the views are different; only it’s more feeling than sight.”

“It does take some getting used to; certainly threw me for a loop, what with mine being an entirely different gender. But you’ll get used to it, in time.”

“And what if I don’t want it at all? What if I’d rather just let him go free, without the burden of being chained to my side?”

John tilted his head, surprised by the suggestion. “Well, that is certainly an option as well, though it’s far from a common one. But, if you truly wish to be rid of them so quickly, you need to make an even trade.”

Brian stared at him blankly, missing the connection; John sighed and leaned forward.

“A name for a name. Specifically, yours.”

“Oh.” Brian felt like he should have understood that, but it hadn’t occurred to him. “I told him to call me Brian.”

“It won’t work,” John said, shaking his head. “That may be what you call yourself, and the name you choose to give, but it isn’t your _true_ name. _That_ is the name that holds your power.”

“John’s is lovely,” Veronica mused, gazing at her husband. 

“I caution you not to throw away this gift so recklessly,” John told Brian. “Think it over. There are many benefits to having a ganainmer, whichever of them you decide to utilize. It’s part of who we are, what we are. We were given this power, and are meant to use it.”

“I suppose,” Brian replied, though he wore an unsure frown. “Well I’ll leave you to your morning. Thank you for your insight.”

“Anytime Brian.” 

Veronica showed him to the door, giving his arm a reassuring pat before he left their front step. He had so much to consider, and not enough energy for thought. As he made his way towards his home, he felt his own exhaustion, but Roger’s as well. Neither one of them knew what to make of the situation, it seemed. And as Brian laid his head down to finally rest, the other half of his mind quieted as well, the two of them falling asleep together.

Brian woke up sometime in the afternoon, based on the sun’s position. He took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of summer flowers; somewhere above him a wren chirped a happy tune. But something still felt off. He sat up and stretched, enjoying the warmth of the day. He could still feel Roger in his head; he got the sense that the human was still asleep, but stirring. It was a strange feeling, but there was something almost comforting about it.

He was late for his daily rounds. Every day he visited some of his animal friends, making sure they were okay, and checking for any hazards. Today there was a hedgehog with a badly twisted ankle; Brian wrapped it with some herbs and sent him on his way, scolding him to be more careful the next time. After that there was a bird who’d broken her wing some days ago that was healing up nicely, and a fox and crow who were fighting.

“Don’t make me tell you again. It’s a big enough wood for the both of you.” Brian waved them off and sighed. It was exhausting work some days, and no one asked him to do it per se. But the fae are guardians of the forest, and everyone did their part to keep order; some, like himself, prefer a more hands-on approach.

Brian looked up suddenly. Roger was definitely awake now, and on the move. Curious, the fae sat down and closed his eyes, trying to zero in his focus on his ganainmer. He could almost see through Roger’s eyes, the road before him, the sky above, the trees to either side. But it was more than just sight; Brian was inside his mind, sensing his motives as well as his motions. His eyes snapped open when it dawned on him just where the human was headed. This was not good.

\-----

Roger tossed the covers off with a huff. He’d slept off his hangover, but he still felt… wrong, somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, but he knew it had something to do with the man he’d met. _Brian…_

There was only one way Roger could think of to settle the matter, and that was to track down the mysterious _Brian_ and confront him. He had to have done something to him, slipped him something maybe. Roger didn’t get that kind of sense from him, but it was impossible to tell. His memory of the night before was still a bit hazy in parts.

Roger got dressed, deciding to leave his fur coat at home this time. His mama and granddad were in the sitting room, him reading the newspaper and her knitting. Roger slipped out without them noticing; he knew they would ask where he was going and why, and he could barely understand it himself, let alone explain it to them.

Roger couldn’t remember getting home from the woods at all, so he headed to the pub first. He was tempted to stop in for a pint, but he had more important things on his mind, and getting pissed wouldn’t do his memory any favors. He took a breath to steel his nerves, then set off down the road. 

Everything looked so different in the night of day. Roger laughed at himself for being so wasted; he’d been sure the road twisted and wound through the woods, but it was straight and flat as any of the roads in London. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he whistled, the melody from the night before coming partly back to him. He looked around for anything familiar, but the trees all looked the same. He was about to turn back, sure he’d missed it, when he spied a path branching off to the right. That was it, he was sure.

It seemed so tiny, so inconspicuous, barely more than a deer trail, really. The trees were closer together, hanging lower; it was darker down the path, and felt somehow colder as Roger stood at its mouth. A tiny voice in the back of his head whispered at him to turn back. This was a bad place. But it looked safe enough, if a bit creepy. Roger rolled his shoulders and took a step further. 

For a while, it seemed like everything was perfectly normal. Birds still sang overhead; a chilled breeze blew his hair off his shoulders. The path wasn’t as straightforward, but the turns were gentle, and seemed to guide him in the same general direction.

And so it was with great surprise that Roger suddenly found the path opening back onto the main road. He looked around, thinking it had looped back, but he could just make out the smoke from the pub’s chimney, exactly the same distance as when he’d turned off. He turned around and scratched his head. He couldn’t think of any point where he’d gotten turned around, but obviously he must’ve. Annoyed with himself, he toed an arrow in the dirt, then set down the trail a second time.

This time he paid closer attention to his surroundings. There was no way he’d get turned if he just kept looking straight ahead. Minutes passed, and the trees seemed to loom over him. A chill ran down his spine, and the voice at the back of his mind again warned him to turn back. Rationally, there was no reason to be uneasy, and so Roger ignored the out-of-place instinct and pressed on.

The further he got into the woods, the more eerie the air around him felt. The birds quieted, and barely any light streamed through the trees. His heart raced, a vague but persistent dread taking over his thoughts. His eyes darted to and fro, his fists clenching and unclenching. His steps slowed, then stopped. Roger looked ahead, squinting in the low light. He thought he could see a break in the trees ahead, but a shadow rushed past, and he took a step backwards. The terror welling up in his chest grew too much, and the next thing he knew he was running the way he’d come, as if the devil himself was on his heels.

When he came back to the road he doubled over, hands braced on his knees as he gasped for breath. Slowly his heart rate returned to normal, and the fear was replaced with irritation.

“This is bollocks!” He snapped out loud, turning back to the darkened trail behind him. “It’s just a bloody path! Nobody tells me where I can’t go, especially not some stupid bloody trees!” 

Impassioned with new determination, Roger charged back in. He felt the same creeping trepidation, but he stubbornly ignored it, fighting against his own body. He’d never felt anything like this, warring with himself; it enraged him to no end, but only spurred him on more. When his eyes grew wide with panic he shut them tight, pushing blindly on. It felt almost like walking into the wind, some unseen force holding him back. He groaned and growled, cursing whatever it was that tried to stop him.

Suddenly, it was no longer an invisible, unknowable force, but a very real, physical one; the feeling of hands on his arms made Roger’s eyes snap open, finding Brian staring him down with an exasperated expression. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Brian said, though his tone lacked some conviction. “Your hardheaded-ness is most amusing.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.” Roger scowled at the taller man. 

Like a physical weight suddenly pressing on him, Roger swayed on his feet from the weakness in his head, and his frown melted into a worried pout. The mans hands never left his arms, the grip only tightening as Roger fell forwards into Brian.

The last thing Roger remembered before his unscheduled slumber was a pair of surprisingly strong arms lifting him, and the smoke of the pub’s chimney swirling off in the distance.


	3. Chapter 3

“Roger Meddows Taylor!”

Roger jumped up at his mama’s voice, looking around wildly. His grandmother towered over him, hands on her hips and eyes blazing even in the low light. 

“Ma?” he groaned, getting to his feet. “Where… what are you doing here?” He looked around, getting his bearings; he’d apparently been sitting under an oak just off the road. The secret path was across the way, its mouth cast in deep shadows. A chill ran down his spine as he peered into its depths, searching for any sign of movement, but the air was eerily still.

“Looking for you, of course! Had me worried sick!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him close, checking him over. “Last I knew you were asleep in your bed. Then I go to check on you, and what do I find? Room empty, no note, no word. And then I find you asleep in the middle of the woods!” The old woman crossed her arms, pulling her knitted shawl tighter around her body; she cast a wary glance over her shoulder at the forest behind them, and visibly shuddered. 

“M’fine, ma,” He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. Her voice grated on his ears, making his headache worse. 

“Fine! Fine he says! You little scamp, you’ll wish you were fine by the time I’m through with you! Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?” She grabbed him by the ear and started dragging him back towards the cottage.

“Ma, I told you I’m fine! I just went for a walk is all!”

“Hush, you. I don’t know if you’re drunk or high or what, but you’re coming home straight away, and you’re not to leave until I say so, understand me?”

“Yes ma,” he grumbled, wrenching himself out of her grip but following along. As they walked away, Roger looked over his shoulder, the tiny path now nearly hidden. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched, and somehow knew it was Brian’s eyes he felt on him. The feeling should have concerned him, but instead he felt strangely comforted. 

The whole way home his ma lectured him on how careless he was, how much of a fright he’d given her, and what chores he’d be doing the next day to make up for it. He knew better than to argue, though his eyes were sore from rolling by the time they reached the small cottage.

“I’ve found him!” his mama called once they were inside. His grandfather looked up from his book and gave him a stern expression.

“Da, it was nothing, really.”

“Nothing!” his ma screeched. “I found him asleep under a tree like some dirty scrote!”

The old man sighed heavily and got up from his armchair, approaching the blonde. He stood over him with a long-suffering scowl and shook his head slowly.

“How many times, boy? How many times do I have to give you the same warnings? Every summer you come out here, and every summer I have to keep you from getting snatched up by the wilds because you’ve got your head on backwards. And you never learn, but you one day you will, just you wait. One of these days they’ll get you, and I won’t be there to say I told you so.”

“Yes da, I know,” Roger huffed, rolling his eyes for the hundredth time in so many minutes

“You say you know, but you’ve no idea. You young folks think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? You think us old codgers are all off our ‘eads, don’t think I don’t know. Well believe me, boy, I was like you once, a skeptic who thought he knew exactly how the world works. Aye, those fairy stories are all a load of bollocks, I used to say. But I tell you now, I’ve seen things that would turn your hair white. So you listen to me and you listen well, or mark my words, you’ll regret it.”

“Yes da,” Roger said quietly, staring at his feet. He heard his grandfather sigh and head back into the sitting room.

“You may vex us to no end,” his grandmother said quietly, making him look up at her. Her smile was tight, but better than none at all. “But you’re our boy, and we love you all the same. Now, wash up for supper, then set the table.” She patted his head and pushed him towards the kitchen. “Straight to bed after. You’re to be up bright and early in the morning to help with the chores.”

\-----

“So, I heard we had a visitor this morning.”

Brian nearly fell out of the tree at the sound of his mentor’s voice. He hopped down to the ground and stood before the older fae. His name, even the one he’d originally given Brian, had long been forgotten in favor of the one Freddie had unofficially given him.

“Miami, sir. Yes, I-”

“Not his first time here, either, was it? Tell me, how exactly did he find us?”

“I don’t know,” Brian answered, ducking his head. The older man was shorter than him, yet his gentle but commanding nature always made him seem larger somehow. “He stumbled here last night, drunk, I believe. He… he gave me his name.”

“Did he now?” Miami said with genuine surprise. “Well, congratulations are in order then. You do need to keep a better eye on him though, unless you wish him to remain here indefinitely. That is your choice, of course, but the rumors are true, you prevented him from going further. Is that what happened?”

“It is. I… didn’t want him to get hurt. I don’t think he’s realized what’s happened. Not sure I fully understand it myself, to be honest.”

“Walk with me,” Miami said, holding out his arm. Brian nodded and slung his leather bag over his shoulder, and the two made their way down the winding path through their lands. “This is your first ganainmer, isn’t it?” he asked, and Brian nodded. “You’ve a lot to learn, then. But I’ve always felt it’s best to learn through action. It’s about time you took one on; I was starting to wonder if you ever would,” he chuckled. Brian gave an awkward smile, feeling like he was back in lessons.

“It all happened so fast. He’d dropped something, and misunderstood what I’d been asking for in return.”

“And what did you ask for?” Miami asked with a smirk. Brian’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head down again. “Nevermind, that’s between the negotiating parties. As long as the trade was fair, all is well. Now, have you thought about what you’ll do with him?”

“No sir, I haven’t. I’m still unclear what exactly I’m meant to do with him. John said some treat theirs as companions or pets, and others…” he trailed off, frowning.

“There are those that take a more complete advantage of their power. None that live here, but I have heard tales of fae using their ganainmers as… servants,” he said, clearing his throat. He didn’t need to clarify; Brian had heard similar talk once or twice in his time. “The choice is entirely up to you, boy. Personally, I think you could do well to befriend him, at least for a time. We are creatures of the wood, but you spend so little time with those you can converse with. It doesn’t do well to spend your entire existence alone.”

“I don’t,” Brian huffed. “There’s Freddie, and John and Veronica. They’re my friends.”

“They are, but how often do you see them, really? John and Veronica have their own lives, and Fred…” Miami gave a little sigh and a shake of his head. “Fred is a flighty one. I worry about him sometimes. But yes, I think this will be good for you. Part of growing up, and accepting who and what you are.”

Brian nodded slowly. He was hardly a boy, but Miami was right; he still had some steps to take before he could truly consider himself mature.

"Speaking of Freddie," Miami spoke up, "Have you heard from him? He's been… elusive, more than usual lately."

"I haven’t," Brian replied, his brow creasing slightly. "I know Mary was looking for him the other day, and I went round his place, but it didn't look like he'd been home in a bit. Should we be worried?" he added as Miami's lips curled downwards.

"No… not yet at any rate. But, do keep an eye. Well, I've got matters to attend to. Do heed my advice though, and check in on your gan."

"I will sir, thank you." Brian blinked, and Miami was gone; he wondered if someday he would have such a knack for disappearing. He sighed and looked around the woods; the sun was beginning to set, and he had work to do as well.

\-----

Supper passed quietly. Roger was grateful they were done scolding him, but the air wasn’t exactly clear either. Which, he noted, meant this probably wasn’t the best time for questions, but Roger was nothing if not impatient. 

"Da?" he asked, scraping his spoon through the remnants of his stew. "If you did meet one, a faerie, I mean… how would you know?"

His grandparents both looked up at him like he'd sprouted a second head. They looked at each other for a moment, and then his Da leaned back in his chair.

"Thought you didn't believe in faerie tales?"

"Not saying I do," Roger replied, shrugging. "Maybe I figured I'd humor you. So, how would you? What do they look like?"

His Da regarded him for a long moment, while his Ma took their empty bowls into the kitchen. Once she was out of the room, the old man leaned forward, arms crossed on the table.

"That's the tricksie thing. They can change their face, can look like anyone, even you and me. But there's ways. You've got to have your wits about you to spot em, but there’s ways. Their eyes, for one. Never the same color. Blue one moment, green the next.”

“Right,” Roger replied, sitting forward and copying his grandfather’s position.

“Their voices sound strange, too. Nothing you can put your finger on; might be like bells, or music, more a feeling than a sound. But that’s how they get you. You let em go on too long, they’ll have you sleeping like a babe.”

Roger thought back to Brian; his voice hadn’t been exactly bell-like, but there had been something soothing about it, like a soft blanket. And he had fallen asleep after talking to him. Twice, in fact, he recalled.

“There’s other ways to be sure, of course. Spill some salt or sugar, and they’ll be compelled to stop and count every grain. Or show em their reflection; they’re vain things at heart, and can’t resist a chance to admire themselves.”

“Last bit sounds like me,” Roger chuckled, but his Da huffed.

“This is no laughing matter, boy! Now pay attention. If you’re asking questions, you’re probably bound to go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Look here,” he said, pulling a dark metal ring off his pinky finger. “Take this. It’s pure iron - they can’t go near the stuff. Silver works too in a pinch.”

Roger took the ring and slipped it on; it felt warm, most likely from being on his da’s finger for goodness knows how long. 

“Few more things. They love to talk in riddles; you’re more likely to get a straight answer from the cat than you are from the likes of them. That’s another way they’ll get ye. Choose yer words carefully, because they’re masters at turning what you say back on you.”

Roger nodded; that was another tick in the ‘something odd about Brian’ category. He itched at his finger absently as his grandfather went on, mentioning something about pools of water and talking to animals. 

“They only go after virgins. Drawn to purity they are, because they’re anything but. Not that I’d recommend dipping your… toes, just for the sake of that, but it’s good to know.”

“Er, right, yeah.” Roger coughed; his Da didn’t need to know he’d already dipped more than his toes years ago. “Anything else?”

“Just one more. Whatever you do, no matter the reason or how natural it may seem, never, ever give them yer name.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because, you berk. Names have power. You give em your name, you’ve just handed over the deed to yer mortal soul.”

Roger stared at his grandfather for a long moment. Somewhere outside, a barn owl screeched. 

“Right, off to bed with ye,” his Da finally said, pushing back from the table. “Yer Ma’ll have you up at dawn, to be sure.”

“Yes, Da.” Roger stifled a yawn and waved goodnight, then trudged upstairs to his room. His body felt weak, but his mind was a blur, everything his Da said, the hazy memories he had of Brian, and a nagging feeling that he’d forgotten something very important. As he settled down for the night he itched at his finger again, before pulling the ring off and setting it on his nightstand. 

“Can’t be real; there’s no such thing as magic,” Roger scoffed. Brian was just some off fellow he’d stumbled across in the woods, probably as drunk as he’d been. It was just his imagination playing tricks, too many years of his Da’s stories getting to him. Still, as he stared up at the moon through his bedroom window, he felt the ghost of someone’s hands on his arms, the grip firm, but somehow tender.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Roger was kept busy from the moment he got up. His Ma woke him just before dawn to help with the chickens, collecting eggs and spreading their feed. It felt more like he was doing the work and she was just directing, which seemed likely, considering this was supposed to be a punishment. After that, there was the slop to be given to the sows, and Bluebell needed milking. By midmorning, Roger had already broken a sweat. As he leaned against a fencepost and pushed the hair back from his brow, his eyes scanned the surrounding woods. His ears pricked up, and he got the familiar feeling of being watched. But before he could find the source, if one existed, his Ma called him in to wash up for breakfast.

The rest of the day passed much the same, chore after mindless chore. A cupboard door hinge needed oiling, a cracked window pane needed replacing, the fireplace needed sweeping. On and on, until Roger was sure she'd run out of things for him to do. Finally, once the supper dishes had been washed and cleared away, his Ma called him into the sitting room. She was in her favourite rocking chair by the window, darning some socks, and she looked at him with a tired smile.

"Come sit by me, dear."

Roger obliged, sitting cross-legged at her feet like he'd done since he was little.

"Your Da gave you good advice last night," she said, rocking and working the needles and yarn between her fingers. "But there's more to the fae than threats and warnings. Magic can be a blessed thing, as long as you keep your head."

"You told me your mum's friend was taken away, didn't you?"

"I did." The old woman sighed and set her work down on her lap. She looked out the window, her eyes unfocused, a smile tugging on her lips. "Her name was Veronica. I was just a babe, I barely remember her. She had the most beautiful laugh, though. My mum said it was like she'd been given a faerie-gift at birth. Maybe that's why they were drawn to her."

"What happened?" Roger found himself leaning forward, drawn into the story, however fantastical. 

"The way my mum told me, it was Midsummer's Eve. That's a time when the veil is thin. My mum and she had longed to see the faerie folk, so they'd bathed themselves in marigolds, and woven forget-me-nots in their hair, and went traipsing through the woods at dusk, looking for faerie rings. And they found one."

A wind rattled the windows, and Roger startled. 

"He was… well, handsome doesn't begin to describe it, or so my mum said. He looked at them both, but his eyes locked on Veronica, and that was it. He held out his hand and asked for a dance. My mum warned her against it, but Veronica just laughed her bell-like laugh. It was almost as if they'd met before, she said. And then they were gone, just like that, in the blink of an eye."

"They just… disappeared? Into thin air?"

"Mhm." Roger's Ma nodded, a distant look in her eye. "Mum said it was odd how Veronica had seemed to know just where to look. And when he appeared, there was no surprise. It was like he'd been expecting her, and she him."

"Maybe they'd met before," Roger said quietly. 

"Perhaps… Anyway, no one believed my mum of course. Veronica was young but by no means a child. Most assumed she'd run off with a band of gipsies, or eloped with some unknown vagabond. But my mum received a letter, years later. She gave no details of where she'd gone or whom with, but that she was happy. And along with it, was this." 

Roger's Ma reached over to the bookshelf and pulled out a small leather-bound volume. She opened the cover and pulled out a sprig of forget-me-nots, looking freshly picked. 

"This sprig has been in this book for longer than you've been alive. And yet it's as full of life as if it was just plucked this morning. Can you explain that?"

Roger stared with wide eyes and shook his head. There had to be a trick to it, some logical explanation, but not a single one sprung to mind.

"There's beauty in magic," his Ma whispered. "If you only know where to look." She drew a slow breath and returned the flower and book to their shelf. "Now, off to bed. You've paid your penance."

Roger climbed to his room and paced the boards, back and forth, drumming his fingers on his hips. His Da's stories had left him feeling one way, but his Ma had him all turned around. He needed answers. Looking around his room, his eyes fell on the iron ring. It really wasn't his style, the rough metal making his finger itch. But he was pretty sure he had a necklace of silver. He grabbed the ring, meaning to put it away, and paused for a moment at its warmth. Odd. But then, iron retains heat, doesn't it? He shrugged and threw it in his jewellery box, digging through until he found the delicate silver chain. There were the blasted glasses as well, the ones that had started this whole mess; with a smile, he threw both glasses and necklace in his satchel, along with a small mirror. He could always snatch some sugar or salt from the pantry on his way out the door. As he searched his room he held back a yawn and took stock of how physically exhausted he was.

First thing tomorrow, he thought to himself as he stripped and laid between his sheets. Better to start with a clear head. His mind made up, he closed his eyes, sleep pulling him under. As waking consciousness drifted to dreams, his mind filled with misty visions of faerie rings and forget-me-nots, of names and deals.

\----

Brian awoke with a start. Something felt different about today. There was nothing ill in the winds, no whispers of misfortune from his closest animal friends. And yet, as he went through his morning rituals, there was an energy in his veins, some driving force whispering that something was about to happen. It was distracting enough to be something of an annoyance, and as the sun climbed over the horizon, he had a sinking feeling it had to do with his ganainmer. 

"Alright!" he huffed to no one in particular, startling a nearby lark. "Alright," he said again, more quietly. "I'll go and look in on him. Just a peek, to make sure he hasn't stumbled into some new hazard."

It wasn't often that Brian left the wood to venture into the mortal realm. He'd done it before, out of curiosity or for some assigned task, but a mere handful of times at most. And so it was with some trepidation that he walked down the path, the mouth of the wooded trail looming brightly ahead. He paused at the edge of the road, looking both ways. Towards the left, he could see a trail of smoke above the treeline; the tavern where men went to drink, and beyond that, the village. To the right there seemed to be nothing, but Brian knew that somewhere down that well-beaten trail, was Roger. He steeled himself, clutched the strap of his bag like a lifeline, and stepped out into the sun.

The morning birds chattered away, sharing the day's gossip. Brian whistled along, his unease fading as he enjoyed the simple walk. He could almost forget he wasn't home, if not for the unnatural flatness of the road. A light breeze made the branches to either side sway, and though their silence gave him some pause, the rich, earthy scent that wafted through the air helped to calm his nerves. It was almost enough to make him wonder why he didn't do this more often.

His steps faltered when he spotted a figure down the path, just coming round the bend. Brian wondered if he should step off the trail, perhaps slip into the shadows of the trees and let himself be passed by, unseen. But a familiar voice hit his ears, and though no more relaxed, he no longer felt the need to hide. How fortuitous, he mused, his gait slowed, but continuous. The figure ahead, now in much clearer view, also paused for a brief moment.

"Fancy meeting you here," Roger called when they'd nearly met. "I was starting to think you lived in the woods."

"Yes, I mean no. No, of course not," Brian replied. Both of them chuckled nervously, finally face to face. Brian looked Roger over; he looked much the same as he remembered, his hair falling in soft fawn-coloured waves, sunglasses perched on his nose, bright blue eyes shining just above. "It's good to see you."

"Is it?" Roger asked, with what sounded like genuine surprise. "Same to you, of course. So, what brings you down from the trees today?"

"You," Brian said without thinking. "Er, that is… I wanted to be sure you'd made it home alright. The woods can be… difficult, if you don't know your way."

"Well, isn't that kind of you," Roger said with a smirk. He slipped his shades off and hung them from the front of his shirt. 

"And you? I hope I haven't interrupted some errand."

"Nah, s'alright. Just enjoying the day, you know?"

Brian nodded, smiling softly. He'd missed Roger's voice, he realized, it's strange raspy-smooth quality. 

"I, uh… I packed some lunch," Roger said. "Well, more like breakfast, I s'pose. You hungry?"

"You would share a meal with me?" Brian asked, cocking his head. Roger peered at him, seeming to go over his words. 

"If you like. Wouldn't want to impose."

Brian appraised him for a long moment. Fortuitous indeed. 

"I know a clearing just off the path," he said, gesturing. "It isn't far."

"Yeah," Roger said slowly, his eyes flickering from where Brian pointed, back to his face. "Alright. Long as you promise not to get me lost," he laughed, but there was an unease in his eyes.

"You'll return to the road unharmed," Brian replied, a hand on his chest. "You have my word."

"Whenever I say?"

The question made Brian blink. Smart mortal, Brian thought amusedly. 

"The moment you wish to return."

"Right. Well, lead the way, then." 

The two men stepped off the path, and Brian led the way to a small meadow. It was still technically within the mortal realm, though the air carried a touch of magic to it. He led Roger to a soft mossy spot beneath a willow, beside a natural spring pool. He sat back against the trunk of the tree as Roger claimed a spot beside him, the mortal pulling some things from his satchel.

"It's nothing fancy. Just some bread and cheese, and a couple apples. Oh, and a bottle of honey-wine."

"A fine offering," Brian said with a smile. "I am honoured by your generosity."

"S'nothing," Roger shrugged, squinting at him in the sun. Brian reached down and brushed his fingers against the root of the willow, and with a barely-audible creak, the branches shifted slightly, shading the two. "Anyway, here." 

Brian thanked Roger as he divvied up the meal as close to equally as humanly possible. The food was fine, if a little plain, but clearly made with love. Roger offered Brian the first sip of wine, and he took it gladly. 

"Sweet as Midsummer," Brian said, licking a stray drop from his lips. Roger seemed stuck for a moment, before shaking it off and retrieving the bottle for his own swig. "So, Roger. Tell me about yourself?"

"Not much to tell. Just a regular bloke, trying to get by and have some fun. I'm visiting my grandparents for the summer; I do every year."

"So when the summer ends you'll be going away?" Brian's heart did an odd twist at that knowledge. He didn't know exactly why, but he didn't like it.

"Most likely. I'm supposed to go back to school. Not by choice mind you," Roger laughed, taking another sip of wine. "But then, if I had my choice, it'd be nothing but this. Endless days of lazing about, seeing what new kinds of trouble I can get into." His lips curled in an impish smirk, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his teeth. 

"Those that go looking for trouble often find it," Brian mused, reaching for the bottle. Their fingers brushed, and Brian felt a tiny spark; he wondered if Roger felt it too, and searched his blue eyes for an answer. They held each other's gaze for a long stretch of silence, both still clutching the bottle, their fingertips resting side by side. Roger looked like he was searching for something, Brian wasn't sure what for, but he held still, letting the mortal see whatever there was for him to see.

"That's the idea, innit?" Roger said finally, releasing the bottle and leaning back on his elbows and stretching his legs out besides Brian's longer ones.

"Or perhaps," Brian said, leaning forward, "Those that go searching are trouble. Are you trouble, Roger? Should I be wary of you?" Brian's heart beat faster as the two regarded each other. He could feel the connection between them strengthen, his feelings muddled. How much of it was the innate bond, and how much was his own curiosity? He didn't know, but he did know that when Roger's eyes flickered down his face for the briefest of moments, it made something inside him tighten.

"I could say the same of you," Roger replied, his voice hushed. "Afterall, you went looking for me today, isn't that what you said?"

"It is, and I did. And here you are."

\----

Roger's heart pounded in his chest. He could barely think straight. Wasn't he supposed to be looking for something? The tests, you nitwit. Stop staring at his lips like some lusty schoolboy and focus. 

"Oh, um… you've got a bit of something," Roger said. "On your cheek. I… have a mirror." He dug the small handheld mirror out of his bag and handed it over. Brian gave him an odd look, before looking in the glass.

"I don't see anything," he said, handing the mirror back a moment later.

"Oh. Must've been a midge or something." Roger slipped the mirror back in his bag, letting out a breath. He reached into his bag, his fingers clasping around the cloth that held the apples, as well as a handful of sugar. "Care for an apple?" He said, unravelling the cloth; the sugar spilt to the ground between them, and he waited for any sort of reaction. 

"Don't mind if I do," Brian said, plucking one of the two ripe ruby apples from the cloth and biting into it. Roger stared a moment longer, before huffing and taking his own, shoving the cloth roughly back into his satchel. 

"Something the matter?" Brian asked, his head cocked.

"No, it's nothing. Just… something my Da said. Something silly." 

They ate their apples in silence, taking sips of wine in between. Roger felt like a fool. Of course his Da's stories were nonsense. Brian was just a man, same as him. A little strange perhaps, but kind, and fair. Quite fair, actually. Roger felt his eyes drawn over and over to Brian's face, his soft brown eyes (Still brown, every time I look) and gentle smile. His memory of their first meeting was still a bit hazy, but there was one thing he felt he'd never forget for the rest of his life - the most perfect kiss he'd ever experienced, or would ever, he feared. He could almost feel it still, if he closed his eyes, though something in him whispered not to.

He dipped his hand into the pool beside them, the water cool and crystal clear. It was small, and couldn't be more than two feet at its greatest depth. Roger wondered if there was a larger one somewhere nearby.

"Do you swim?" Brian asked suddenly, startling Roger from his thoughts. 

"I know how. Don't get much chance to, but yeah."

"I know a place, if you'd like."

Roger paused, and turned in the direction they'd come from. He thought he could just barely make out the road through the trees, but he wasn't sure. "I should actually be getting back."

"Of course. Another day, perhaps?" Brian smiled and took one last swig of wine before standing and offering Roger a hand. Roger took it and stood as well; but he'd misjudged the distance, and when he rose they were nearly chest to chest. His breath caught in his throat, his heart beat like a frantic drum. Maybe one last test, just to be sure.

"One more thing. I… well I have this necklace, but I thought…" he shrugged, the elaborate story he'd come up with disappearing like smoke. "Thought you might like to try it on."

"You want me… to try on your necklace?" Brian asked, with a hint of amusement. 

"Yeah, you know. See if you like it, then give it back when you're done."

Roger swallowed hard. He reached into his bag and withdrew the silver chain.

"It's lovely," Brian breathed. He turned and stooped down, and lifted his hair out of the way. "Would you clasp it for me?"

"S-sure." Roger drew the chain around Brian's neck; his fingers trembled as he worked the clasp. Once it was closed his hands traced the cool metal, brushing against Brian's porcelain skin. He thought he felt the other man shiver, but he doubted his senses. 

"What do you think?" Brian asked, turning around. Roger stared with equal parts disappointment and awe.

"It suits you," he said quietly. Almost against his will, his hand reached out and traced the chain, calloused fingertips brushing the other man's collarbone.

"Your finger… what happened?" Brian frowned and took Roger's hand in his own. Roger hadn't even noticed the bruise on his finger.

"It's nothing. Must've happened yesterday; did some mending around the house, I probably got it with the hammer."

Before he could track the movement, Brian had knelt down and was digging through his bag. Another moment later he was winding some sort of leaves around the injured finger, followed by a bit of cloth.

"That should help," Brian said. Roger stared in awe, both at the kindness, and the oddity that he'd happened to have healing herbs on him.

"You an ‘erbalist?" he asked, and Brian smirked.

"You might say that. But I believe you were saying you wanted to go back?"

Roger nodded and gathered his things, and faster than seemed likely, they were stepping back out onto the road.

"As promised," Brian said with a sweep of his arm and a light laugh. Roger nodded and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, then decided to ask anyway.

"Will I see you again?"

"If you like," Brian replied. "We could meet tomorrow, and I could take you to the swimming pool?"

"Yeah… that sounds alright. I can bring lunch again. You allergic to anything?"

"How thoughtful of you to ask. Not allergic, but I prefer not to eat meat."

"Really?" Roger scrunched his nose, but shrugged. "Well, no one's perfect," he chuckled. "Where should I meet you?"

"Just follow the road. I'll find you."

There was something decidedly cryptic about that, but Roger couldn't suss out what. 

"Oh, my necklace?" he asked. Brian chuckled and took a step back.

"You said I could give it back when I was done with it."

"Yeah, and?" Roger frowned.

"I don't believe I'm quite done with it yet." Brian smiled, touching the chain. "Until tomorrow."

"But- Hey, wait!" Roger called, but Brian slipped off the road and into the woods. Well. That's just dandy. I make an ass of myself for no reason, and I'm out a perfectly good necklace. Still… could be worse. Roger huffed, but shook his head and turned towards home. Brian was no fae, that much was clear. He'd passed every silly 'test' with flying colours. No, he was just a man. A man whom Roger, as he was beginning to realize, was very much looking forward to seeing again.


	5. Chapter 5

“And just where have you been?” Roger’s Ma asked as he stumbled through the door. She looked over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove, stirring a pot. Thankfully this time, her tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Just out for a walk.”

“I noticed a bottle of wine went missing from the cellar. And a loaf of bread and hunk of cheese from the pantry. That’s quite a lunch for one boy. I take it you’ll be too full for supper?” she asked. Roger’s steps faltered, and he cleared his throat.

“I… I can still eat. Worked up a good enough appetite yesterday to last a week,” he laughed. His Ma eyed him, but he ducked his head and took the stairs two at a time to his room. Once behind his door he took a breath and laid down on his bed. He was far from drunk, but the half-bottle had left him warm and just a little fuzzy around the edges. He stared at the ceiling, a smile on his lips. Brian… he was sweet, and funny in a way. Roger couldn’t think of anyone he’d ever met who was quite like him. 

He sat up when he realized that he knew nothing about the other man. Not where he lived, or what he did, or even his last name. It didn’t bother Roger that much; he hadn’t shared much about himself, either, other than his full name. Still, he’d been drawn to people over less. He had standards of course, but so far Brian was meeting them. Intelligent but not stuffy, funny but not to the point where Roger couldn’t take him seriously. And he was certainly attractive, in an unconventional way. 

Roger closed his eyes ghosted his fingers over his own lips. Yes, he could almost feel that kiss still burning, the firm but gentle press of Brian’s mouth against his own, the faintest taste of berries on his breath. The warmth that spread through his body, the promise of - or hunger for - more kisses to come. Roger let out a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. What had Brian done to him?

Morning came, and once breakfast was done, Roger gathered a lunch for himself and Brian to share. More bread and cheese, some boiled eggs, berry jam, biscuits and cream. He set everything on the table and dashed down to the cellar for another bottle of wine; after a moment’s thought he grabbed two. But when he got back up to the kitchen, his Ma was standing at the table (the empty table, Roger noted with a groan), arms crossed.

“Meeting a girl, are you?” she chuckled.

“Er… no, just… going out for a bit. Didn’t want to get hungry and have to come back early.”

“Mm, I see. Well then, it’s a good thing I already packed you a breakfast.” She said, and set a parcel on the table. “A mincemeat pie, some bacon and sausages, mixed eggs and potatoes, and some milk. Plenty to keep you until it’s time to come home.”

“Thank you, Ma,” Roger sighed. She nodded and kissed his forehead, then puttered off to the sitting room. Quickly he shoved the wine into his bag, then regathered the foods he’d chosen and packed them as well. He unpacked the milk and the eggs and potatoes from the parcel, but left the rest, then scurried out the door.

The day was already warm, and Roger looked forward to taking a swim. He walked down the path, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of his companion. His heart felt light and he whistled a tune as he walked, smiling as the birds almost seemed to join him in harmony. 

“Hello there.”

Roger yelped and spun around, his eyes wide and heart racing. Brian stood behind, arms and ankles crossed as he leaned against a tree.

“Nasty trick to pull on a bloke,” Roger huffed, though his lips turned up in a smile. “Nearly made me spill our lunch.”

“A tragedy that would have been,” Brian chuckled. “Still up for a swim?”

“Gladly,” Roger replied, stepping off the road. “Broken a sweat just coming this far.”

“So I see,” Brian mused, his eyes flickering to the v of Roger’s chest where his shirt hung half-open. Roger cleared his throat, one eyebrow raised, and he thought he spied a smattering of blush paint Brian’s cheeks. “Right. This way.”

\----

Heat rose in Brian’s cheeks as he was caught staring. He turned and led the way through the trees, listening for Roger’s footsteps behind him. _Do mortals know how loud their footfalls are?_ As they approached the border of the faewilds, Brian felt a twinge of apprehension; surely others would sense Roger’s presence. But he was under Brian’s protection. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

As they passed through the veil, he noticed Roger shiver, and smiled. Most mortals felt an innate aversion to the wilds; it was why Roger had had to fight so hard to enter the second time, and the first was likely only due to his inebriation. Perhaps it got easier with each passing, he didn’t know. 

“You sure you know where we’re going?” Roger said from behind. “These trees all look the same. I’d be lost for days if left to myself,” he laughed.

“You likely would,” Brian agreed. “But no, I know the way. I’ve walked this path many times. We’re nearly there.”

Sure to his word, a minute later the trees broke open to a clearing filled with wildflowers, which gave way to soft moss leading down to a crystal pond shaded by oaks that seemed tall enough to reach the sky. Brian heard Roger draw a breath, and he turned to take in the mortals awe-struck expression.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s like Eden,” Roger breathed. He broke out into a wide grin and turned his face towards Brian’s. “This is your special place, isn’t it? Your own private little paradise? I can feel it.”

“I lay no claim to it, but I’ve yet to see anyone else here, so I suppose… in a way, yes.” Brian’s heart swelled at the softness in Roger’s eyes. But there was a sparkle of mischief there, as well, and that excited Brian just as much.

“Let’s swim first, then have lunch?” Roger suggested, and Brian nodded. The two made their way to the banks of the pond and set down their bags. Roger looked at the water and started.

“It- how deep is it?” he asked. “I can’t see the bottom!”

“I’ve never measured it,” Brian shrugged, pulling off his top. He looked over at Roger, who did a double-take, his eyes trailing down Brian’s chest for a moment, and the fae felt heat rush into his cheeks again. It was a small consolation that Roger’s face turned a shade of pink as well, before he turned around and began unbuttoning his shirt. Brian’s eyes were glued to the young man’s back as it was slowly exposed, the smooth skin, the visible musculature of his shoulders as he shrugged off the material. And when he turned to face Brian again, shoulders squared back as if preparing for a challenge Brian’s mouth went dry.

“Trying to catch flies?” Roger quipped, and Brian snapped his jaw shut. The mortal smirked, then bit his lip as his fingertips hovered over the button on his trousers. Brian turned around and swallowed. He’d never been ashamed of his own form, so why did his fingers shake? But then, he’d never been watched like this before, never had a pair of eyes following his every movement as he stripped. Heaving a breath, he quickly shoved his trousers down and stepped out of them, stubbornly staring at the ground as he stepped into the pool. The water was the perfect temperature, as it always was, just cool enough to be refreshing. He did a slow lap, waiting until he heard Roger splash into the water before turning around. 

“Bit unnerving not being able to spot the bottom,” Roger said, peering down. He looked back up just as Brian stood, the water at waist-level. The mortals brow furrowed and his head whipped down and up again. “Bloody ‘ell, that’s- how?”

“I don’t know,” Brian answered honestly. He didn’t know exactly how it worked, only that it did. “Try for yourself.” He smiled as Roger swam a bit closer, biting his lip until his upper half lifted from the water.

“Huh. I can feel the stone beneath my feet, but… Isn’t that funny,” he laughed. He licked his lips, his blue eyes trailing downwards until they hit the water’s edge, then snapping back up. 

Brian watched as a bead of water rolled down Roger’s cheek, falling to his chest where it continued downwards… He looked back up. Roger had chosen not to look, and so he would honour the same modesty. Instead he leaned back, swimming in a lazy circle around the mortal. 

“Are you going to stand there? I was under the impression you’d come to swim. Or were you untrue when you said you knew how?”

“I know how,” Roger scoffed, rolling his eyes. He dipped under the water, coming back up a moment later and throwing his hair back wildly. “I could outswim you, I’d wager.”

“A wager, you say?” Brian echoed, his eyes lighting up. “That would make the afternoon more interesting. And what would be the terms?”

“Hold on a tic,” Roger chuckled, holding up his hands. “I never said-”

“Oh, are you afraid of a challenge?” Brian said, swimming closer. “Surprising, I never imagined you the type to back down.”

“Now wait just a mo’!” Roger huffed. “Nobody said anything about backing down! Alright, I’ll take that challenge. Let’s say…” He paused and looked around. “Whoever can swim from one bank to the other and back first is the winner. Straight line, and you have to touch the rocks before turning round.”

“Hm, that seems fair,” Brian said. “And the terms?”

“If I win,” Roger mused, looking up and backstroking; Brian averted his eyes, catching only a glimpse of hip. “If I win, you have to give me back my necklace,” he said finally, nodding to the chain around Brian’s neck. Brian touched the cool metal; it was a piece of Roger, and part of him was loathe to part with it. But as it was Roger’s wager, the terms were his to devise.

“Deal. And if I win?”

“Oh hell, I don’t know. What do you want? Not saying I’ll agree without hearing it first, mind you.”

Brian thought hard about it. What would he want, that Roger would be willing to give? It felt like their first night again. A smile crept onto his lips. _Why not?_

“Alright,” Brian said, circling ever closer to Roger. “If I win, I would like… another kiss.”

He waited for the argument to come, or the counter offer, but Roger just stared at him, blue eyes wide with some mortal emotion he couldn’t quite place. He licked his lips, catching a stray drop that had fallen from his brow.

“Done,” Roger answered quietly. “To the starting line, then?” Both men nodded, and swam to one edge of the pool. “On your marks… steady…” 

Brian looked at Roger one more time. Those blue eyes danced with excitement and fire, and Brian felt heat in his face and his belly. How was it that he was so entranced by this mortal, instead of the other way round?

“Go!”

\----

As soon as the word left his lips, Roger pushed off from the rocks, swimming with all his might. The pool was maybe forty meters across the way they’d chosen to go. Beside him he could see Brian in flashes; they were neck and neck, it seemed. Roger focused and urged himself on. He could see the rocks closing in, and with a dive he flipped, his hand slapping the rock above water before he shoved off in the other direction.

It wasn’t that he desperately wanted his chain back; honestly he liked the way it looked around Brian’s neck. But he’d never been one to turn down a challenge, especially one concerning his own prowess. Still, would it really be so bad if he lost, just this once? A kiss… Brian wanted a kiss. The thought made his heart flutter, and caused a reaction in other parts of his anatomy as well. The memory of that one kiss they’d shared haunted him, and he’d been drunk at the time. How would it be with him sober?

They neared the bank, and Roger’s eyes darted to his side once more. He was in the lead. In just a moment he’d be the winner. 

He pulled up short at the last moment, backpedaling until he heard Brian hit the rock. 

“You nearly had me,” Brian said as he turned and shook his hair, the water straightening his curls. 

“Yeah… nearly.” Roger leaned his arms against the rocks and floated on his stomach. He swore he could feel Brian’s eyes on him, but he didn’t mind. He looked over his shoulder, and was startled to find Brian’s eyes on his face. “S’pose you want to cash in on that wager now?”

“Hm, it doesn’t do well to carry a debt for long.” Brian moved closer, until Roger could feel the heat from his body. He swallowed hard, his eyes following Brian’s hand as it moved to tuck a bit of hair behind Roger’s ear, then trailed a feather-light touch down his jaw, finally tilting his chin ever so slightly.

“Wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t willing to pay up,” Roger whispered, cursing the waver in his voice. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, the last thing he saw was Brian’s own mouth, one corner quirked up, before he felt it pressed against his own.

As much as the first kiss had rocked him, this one was tenfold so. Soft, pliable lips that tasted of something sweet, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek, a warm, earthy scented breeze swirling around them. His heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with his previous physical exertion. He felt like there was fire in his veins; he felt like he was coming awake after a lifetime of walking in a daze. He felt a hunger in his belly that no food could ever sate; nor, he feared, could any other person.

When Brian pulled back, Roger nearly whined at the loss. He chased the other man’s lips, startling them both by reaching up and tangling his hands in the other man’s dark locks. For the briefest of moments he feared he’d be rejected, but Brian whimpered (and by the gods, wasn’t that the single greatest sound he’d ever heard) and returned the kiss with fervor. Roger felt a strong arm being wrapped around his back, drawing him closer, until-

“Oh god,” Roger moaned, his head dropping to Brian’s shoulder. He could feel the taller man’s hardness against his own. A tremor ran down Brian’s body first and then Roger’s, as if completing a circuit. Blue eyes looked up to find brown, both pairs mere rings of color surrounding desire-blown pupils. 

“I’d say you’ve more than paid,” Brian whispered, the hand on Roger’s cheek stroking softly.

“Well if that’s the case, I suppose we’d better square up again.” Roger smirked, then tugged Brian down for another taste. “Fair trade and all,” he breathed between kisses, his tongue grazing Brian’s lower lip. 

“Sweeter than honey-wine,” Brian said, parting his lips to grant Roger entry and taking a taste of his own. 

Roger moaned, his body pressing more firmly against Brians. If the closed-mouth kiss from before had been wine, this was the finest champagne. He moved his hands from Brian’s hair to his hips, pulling them even closer. His hips rocked against the other man’s, seeking sweet friction. He didn’t know which one of them was moaning - perhaps both, their voices blending seamlessly into one. 

“Roger,” Brian moaned, his hands moving to Roger’s arms. He didn’t push back, but held steady; Roger wondered whose benefit it was more for. “We should… lunch. We should have lunch.”

“Is that what you want?” Roger asked. Maybe it was a bit mean, but it didn’t feel fair for Brian to light the fire, then refuse to feed it. Brian challenged him with a gracefully arched eyebrow, but said nothing. “Right,” Roger sighed, leaning back a bit. “Lunch. Hopefully you’ll be pleased with the menu.”

“I’m sure I will be.”

The two men regarded each other, neither moving, until Roger rolled his eyes. 

“Bit late for either of us to be bashful, don’t you think?” he said, stepping out of the water. “You can look,” he whispered when Brian’s eyes darted away. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as Brian’s eyes trailed down his body, widening slightly when they reached his midsection.

“You as well,” Brian breathed a moment later, as he stepped out onto the bank.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Roger mused, smirking, and _gods_ how was anyone that perfect? His mouth watered as he took in the expanse of Brian’s body, his long torso, long arms, long legs, and… proportionate everything else. 

“I brought a blanket,” Brian said, bending down to pull the cloth from his bag. Roger blinked rapidly, then shook his head and stepped over to help him spread it out. They sat beside each other as Roger unpacked their meal.

“No meat, as requested. And plenty to drink,” he said, brandishing the two bottles of wine. He laid on his side as the food was split between them in equal portions. The initial embarrassment over, the two men had no more qualms laying naked beside each other. Eyes roamed, and occasionally hands as well, but the afternoon was mostly spent in quiet conversation. They took another swim after lunch, more kisses and tender touches shared both in the coolness of the pond and on its mossy banks.

“You should go,” Brian whispered, his mouth hovering over Roger’s. They were laid on the blanket, their clothes back in place and the remnants of their lunch packed away. The sun was beneath the trees, the sky beginning to take on a lavender hue.

“You don’t want me to,” Roger replied, biting at Brian’s lip and smoothing a hand down his back.

“Two statements of equal truth,” Brian sighed, pressing a kiss to Roger’s collarbone before sitting back on his heels. He looked to the side, then reached out and plucked a flower from a cluster beside them. “Forget-me-nots,” he said, leaning forward and tucking the flower into Roger’s hair, his fingertip tracing the shell of his ear. 

Roger stiffened for a moment, his Ma’s story returning to him. But it was a common flower; there was no need to jump to impossible conclusions. 

“Don’t think I could ever forget you.” Roger’s cheeks flushed, the confession coming out far more tender than he’d planned. Brian heard it too, his smile softening even further. He hopped to his feet (How is someone that tall, that spry?) and offered Roger a hand. 

“Nor I you,” Brian replied, pulling him up and close. He leaned forward and Roger closed his eyes, anticipating the kiss. He felt a fluttering breeze, but when he opened his eyes again he was back on the road, with Brian nowhere in sight. He spun in circles, desperately trying to recall how he’d gotten from the clearing to the road. Sure he’d polished off one of the two bottles of wine, but surely he hadn’t been that drunk… but then, he must’ve, because there was no other logical explanation. 

“You make me feel like I’m going mad,” he said out loud, something telling him Brian could hear. “But then, being sane is highly overrated.”


End file.
